


Bon Jou lannwit [Larry Stylinson]

by Larryza (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boy Band, M/M, One Shot, larry stylinson - Freeform, one direction - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 19:22:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1576703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Larryza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He felt that the night and the darkness were misunderstood, just as he was. He felt that the night and the shadows didn't deserve to be the symbolism of depression and despair. What if the night only promised bad things because that is what most people thought it would bring? What if it brought horrible nightmares and monsters under your bed because the darkness, in itself, was depressed because no one understood it? Because everyone always believed the sun would rise again and that the light would promise better news than the moon and the stars could ever bring? What about the raven? Why were ravens the symbol of death and doves the symbol of hope? Because the dove was light white like the sun and the raven was dark like the night? He always felt bad for ravens. Most people seemed to hate them, despise them even. Harry didn't. Harry enjoyed their company, even if all they had to promise him was death. They were his favorite bird, so he was glad that they always seemed to tap lightly on his window. </p>
<p>Where Harry likes to sleep the day away and be out and about at night, and Louis just sort of tags along for the ride.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bon Jou lannwit [Larry Stylinson]

**Author's Note:**

> This honestly had no plot to it, not at all. I just sort of wrote what came to me. So sorry if it doesn't make sense or it's lacking some things, heh. Also, I got a little lazy at the end. I hope you enjoy anyways? xx

Some people choose to believe that there is good in the world. That no matter how dark and dreary one day may seem, or how long the night drags on, that the sun would always rise again in the morning and that all would be good again. All because they chose to believe and they planted their feet firmly in the ground, too stubborn to move away and turn their face away from the wind. After all, the chips will fall where they may, won't they?

Harry Styles, however, was different than all those people. He chose to believe that there was good in the world, yes, but he also knew that there was bad. He knew that no matter how dark and gloomy one day is that the sun would rise, that the night was the promise of the sun's return. But what if Harry didn't want the sun to return? What if he liked the darkness? And he did. He enjoyed the stars and their distant, almost lonely and secluded light. He enjoyed the moon and its unpredictable ways, the way that you may see it one night and not see it another, and that its shape changes to the human eye, at least. The sun never did that. It always was the same. It always rose in the East and set in the West, and it always came to say hello and kiss the children of the world's cheeks with its warmth and light and cheeriness. Harry liked the night better. He liked the way the moon's and star's light would reach out to him and try to hold on as much as possible until the morning light, the way that it cared enough to hold onto him and not let him go.

He felt that the night and the darkness were misunderstood, just as he was. He felt that the night and the shadows didn't deserve to be the symbolism of depression and despair. What if the night only promised bad things because that is what most people thought it would bring? What if it brought horrible nightmares and monsters under your bed because the darkness, in itself, was depressed because no one understood it? Because everyone always believed the sun would rise again and that the light would promise better news than the moon and the stars could ever bring? What about the raven? Why were ravens the symbol of death and doves the symbol of hope? Because the dove was light white like the sun and the raven was dark like the night? He always felt bad for ravens. Most people seemed to hate them, despise them even. Harry didn't. Harry enjoyed their company, even if all they had to promise him was death. They were his favorite bird, so he was glad that they always seemed to tap lightly on his window. He would place breadcrumbs every morning out for the birds. All sorts of birds ate at Harry's house, but the most welcomed were the ravens and crows, because they were misunderstood, just as Harry was.

People often mistook Harry's liking to darkness as a sign of depression. That he liked the night more than the day because the night kept his secrets just as Harry's kept its secrets, washing them away in the breeze so that no one would ever catch them. No, this was not the case. The night may keep his secrets better than the day, but that wasn't the reason he preferred the night. He preferred the night because the night understood him. In its silence, the night could hear what he had to say and wouldn't mistake his words for something different. Whereas in the day, it was noisy and loud and busy, no one had time for fun and the day exposed his secrets but most of all, the day did not understand him as the night did.

Maybe that made Harry Styles odd and different than others. Maybe that colored his weird and unusual, but he did not mind. He was not caught up trying to please others. He didn't sugar coat things because he feared hurting someone's feelings. Some people took this as him being bluntly rude, but most people just didn't get his deadpan humor-nor did they understand that sometimes, the truth hurt, and there was no sugarcoating it then. They would just have to hear it up straight. And if no one else would do it, Harry didn't mind telling them what they needed to hear.

This is what the night has taught him. This is why the night was good.

So somehow, all of this ended him with no one to turn to. Not many people, at least. Not many people took the time to understand the mysterious lad that was Harry Styles, the boy that liked to sleep during the day and go about his business during the night. He had never been a morning person. The morning only promised a cranky Harry Styles that simply wasn't in the mood for life in the least, where the night promised a happy Harry Styles, who cherished life and all that there, was.

Life was short, too short to spend it being sad and being someone you weren't.

This is why Harry Styles didn't pretend. This is why he didn't take things too seriously or not seriously enough.

Sometimes life was misunderstood for something bad and useless; after all you were only going to die in the end, weren't you? But that's what made life worth it. That's what made it precious. It wasn't going to last forever. Simply, it couldn't last forever and life couldn't be promised to anyone in the world. That's why Harry chose to do things the way that he thought should be done. No childishness, not when work should be done. He wasn't exactly "all work, no play". He knew how to have fun. It was just that, in his belief, work was far more important than sitting down and pleasing yourself all day. Work was important and having fun was good, healthy even, but less important than getting what needs to be done, done, when it needed to be done. Not when you wanted to do it. Not always.

It was a few nights into summer that Harry met someone that may be considered far more peculiar than him. For once, someone didn't stick to society's plans for their future and what was right from wrong-for once someone else was brave enough to stand out in a world that seemingly supported, but resented originality.

He'd simply been walking. Walking was something that Harry always did. He just liked to walk, to pause and look at everything, to observe life as he passed it by. Most things didn't slip past Harry's watchful eyes; most things didn't manage to sneak past him. If something seemed off, Harry would be the first one to spot it. This was simply the way that he was, quiet but always thinking in his mind. He may not say much, but that was because he found it hard to think as hard as he did and speak at the same time. He literally put so much energy into his thinking and observing, that there was no time within him to do much else.

That is, until he ran into someone else that very same dark, unusually dark in fact, night.

At first, he'd been dazed. He was usually mindful of where he walked. He usually knew when someone was about to pass him by and he knew to move out of their way if they were simply too busy with their pointless knick knacks like their phones or iPod. He would never truly understand the hype over those things, another thing that made people eye him oddly. He didn't mind it, though. He didn't mind it at all.

In the darkness of the night, it would be hard for most people to see. Yet Harry was always up at night, always walking through the darkness. His eyes were made for the black that tried to render him visionless, and his eyes hated the light of the sun. It often burned them, since he had grown too accustomed to the dark.

Through the pitch blackness of the night, it was clear as crystal for him to see just exactly what this boy looked like. Tousled hair that had obviously been combed by the wind's breezy fingers and weather beaten skin, which was made obvious by the roughness to it as their skin had brushed. His button nose was Rudolph red from the wind, but that only added to the adorableness that was this boy. He had doe like eyed, which looked like he had taken the color from the ocean as light danced off the waves and put it into his eyes. For when Harry looked inside, all he could see was an ocean of blue with golden specks, making them appear just as beautiful as the waves when the light glimmered off it. He had high cheek bones and plump, heart shaped lips, and not to mention tan skin-which was odd, considering they lived in England-and he was quite short, even though the stubble on his face clearly said that he may very well be older than Harry, or around his age. But the thing that caught his attention most in that moment was his shirt that was a navy blue with white letters on the chest spelling out in bold print "Free Hugs." To that, Harry couldn't help but scoff.

"Not we all know that this is a scam," Harry suddenly spoke, giving the other man a disapproving look as he caught his balance, making sure that he didn't fall onto his bum as the other lad had-since Harry was clearly much stronger than he was, despite his lanky stature that actually made him a clumsy oaf.

The boy looked startled at Harry's words, so startled that he paused in his movements to get up, his jaw going a little slack. His eyes grew wide, and he sputtered. "Wh-what...I didn't-I wasn't-scam?" He squeaked. Now that Harry heard his voice, he had to hold his breath. It matched the rest of the petite lad. It was high pitched for a male, but he was very beautiful for one as well, especially with his pixie hands. He was all around like a pixie or a fairy. It was interesting to say the least, just like his hair...

"Yeah," Harry continued on. The poor lad didn't realize that despite Harry's serious tone and demeanor, he was one to joke around with a serious and restrained voice. He may seem withdrawn and like he was closed off to the world around him, when he was actually opening up to someone. Most just didn't pay attention enough to realize it. "All hugs are free. That's false advertising." He made a tsking sound with his tongue, his arms folded over his chest as he tapped his foot lightly against the sidewalk, reaching one of his mammoth hands out towards him for him to take.

It was in that moment, judging by the man's features, that he caught onto the joke. The corners of his lips lifted up into a large grin that nearly spilt his face in half (and quite frankly, probably Harry's too) and made his eyes crinkle. If he had thought that the boy was fairy-like beforehand, this simply confirmed his thoughts. This man is definitely a pixie-I wonder if he'll bring me luck? The other lad startled Harry out of his thoughts as he threw his head back a laughed a little, before taking his hand and using it to lift himself up off the ground. He then proceeded to wipe all and any dust and dirt he had gotten on his pants off and into the air, because he couldn't very well have a mark of dirt on his butt, now could he? Even though it was the middle of the night and most people were sound asleep.

"Ah," He responded, amusement tangling in with his tone, his blue eyes light and gorgeous, almost like the sea after a storm. "I get it. What a funny champ you are, eh? The name’s Louis, Louis Tomlinson if we aren't exactly on first name terms, seeing as we just met-or bumped into each other, rather. I just having a bit of a midnight jog, I guess I got a little distracted by the beauty of the full moon. It's nice tonight, isn't it?" Even though Louis talked a lot, it didn't bother Harry much. He had always been more of a listener than a talker, so hearing him talk so much wasn't really anything that he wasn't used to. But his comment on the mood made him grin, largely so. It was nice to hear someone else as fascinated by the night as he was.

Harry nodded eagerly, pleased with his words. It was true, the full moon looked as beautiful as ever, almost as if someone had reached into the sky and given it a good polish-one that it probably has needed for hundreds, if not thousands of years. There was nothing blocking its ghostly pale glow from reaching him or Louis now, and the light gently caressed their skin and held their hands, promising to nurture them as long as they put their faith into that which was the moon and the stars-and Harry did. He put his trust into the moon.

It was then that Harry realized that the lad carried on, staring at him expectantly. His eyebrows arched up in confusion, and Louis chuckled at his expression, which only made Harry wrinkle his nose more. What was so funny? "I was just asking your name, silly." Louis spoke quietly, reaching out and tucking some of Harry's curls behind his ear. This once again, startled him. Who in their right mind went out and touched someone else right after they first met like that? As if they trusted each other enough to do something like that? He ran his tongue over his dried and chapped lips, feeling the bumps on the cherry red skin gained from years of excessive lip biting (he bit his lip when he was thinking too hard, which was known to those who knew him well.)

"Oh..." Harry stuttered, sheepishly. "I'm Harry Styles." He nodded a little, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

And from then on, Harry and Louis talked quite a lot. The second time they met was at the park in yet another one of their midnight strolls. This time they didn't bump into each other (because that sort of meeting was far too cliché, now wasn't it?) but Harry had actually run into him and accidentally pushed the poor pixie like lad into the pond (which clearly said NO SWIMMING) on a sign beside where they stood. They may or may not have ended up skinny dipping and then getting caught and into huge trouble.

That was the thing about the two men. No matter how old they were, when they weren't working, they usually ended up doing something ridiculous together, like skinny dipping in a pond that clearly no one was meant to swim in, not alone skinny dip within the water. There was the time they threw eggs at the local grocery store at night, only to find the furious owner complaining to one of the workers by day, which sent them both into a fight of hysterical giggles at the thought. Oh, if only Harry had been awake for once during the day to see it as Louis had been.

About six months after their meeting, the two began to date. And three months after that, Louis finally moved into Harry's flat with him. It was then that he learned another thing about his boyfriend that he was so affectionate over: he wasn't the most tidy of people, whereas Harry was a neat freak. This was a great sign, even though it may not seem like it. His mum, Anne, had always told Harry to marry someone whose flaws went well with your own-so where Louis' flaw was that he was a bit of a(n adorable) slob, Harry's flaw was that he was always cleaning the instant things got dirty. That's why sometimes; opposites were good, maybe not exactly opposites, but opposite in some ways? Yes, it could be good, very good, in fact.

But all good things must come to an end, or at least that is the saying, isn’t it?

It was many years later, when things for the happy couple had started to turn sour. They had been married for five years; they even got a sergeant mother and had gotten a child, a little girl named Rosalie, who was just as adorable as her name. Things seemed perfect for the three of them, wouldn’t it? They had a family. They may not be the normal family. The one with a Mother and a Father would make some children together, and their children in turn gave them grandchildren with their own husband and wife. No, they had two fathers in this family. Two that couldn’t make children together, but they didn’t very much mind that. It wasn’t something petty like that that got the two to start to drift apart.

Harry didn’t know where he had gone wrong. In fact, the lad had been fairly certain that things had been fine, up until the moment that Louis started to act-well, rather different to put it exactly. There were times when Louis would come home as drunk as anyone could be without dying of kidney failure. There were times where Louis wouldn’t come at all until the next day, his neck littered with suspicious bruises (or where those hickeys? Harry honestly hoped not.) The two husbands were falling apart. The problem with this family wasn’t anything other than the fact that were one of them reached out, the other (metaphorically) slapped their hands away. They had grown to be distant, almost like the strangers they had been nearly eight years ago when they met.

Louis at this time was thirty. Apparently, he was also going through midlife crisis already. He just felt as though life was passing him by far too quick, like his youth was being drained of him and no matter how hard he tried to hold on, all he got was the burns on his hands to show for his efforts-an effort that was pointless and lost. He was afraid of growing old and wrinkly. He was afraid of death. He didn’t want to die, yet he was also afraid of eternity. Of heaven, to be exact, for if he lived forever-there would be no end. Would it be good to be alive for the rest of time as a spirit in Heaven? Would it be good to be an Angel (if he even became one)? Was death good, if you died in a good way? Was being elderly alright? He figured not. Elderly much be awful, with your body becoming so tired and rundown the way that most peoples did. He didn’t want that-he didn’t want to be just another wrinkly old face in the crowd. He wanted to keep his beauty and his youth. He wanted to look like a freshly blossomed flower for the rest of eternity, or for the rest of his days on Earth at least.

To him, Harry and Louis had become just another cliché married couple. He woke up every morning and Harry would make breakfast (since he didn’t sleep during the day as much anymore, since they now had Rosalie), and then he would head off to work. He would come home and they would ask each other how their day went and they would respond with the usual “fine”, because when most asked such a question they weren’t really looking for an answer. They usually didn’t care how your day went. They were simply being formal and polite, and there was nothing else to it than just that. Then they would play with Rosalie for a bit, tuck her into bed and then chat a bit over some whine, and then bid each other a goodnight and fall to sleep. Louis hated that. He didn’t want to be stuck within such a boring routine. He didn’t want to be just another bird trapped in a case, he wanted to be free to spread his wings and do as he willed. So he turned to drink to drown out his sorrows, the drink poisoning his mind and clouding his thoughts, taking away his sorrows for a time, but they would only slap him in the face in the morning, because that was what happened every day. That was the reason why Louis Tomlinson (or Styles now) hated the day. It promised misery for him, when the night promised to take away his unhappiness and let him feel good about him once again.

And then, one night, his life went spiraling down for good.

It was just after they tucked Rosalie into bed, Harry was humming and cleaning up around the house while Louis was putting on his jacket (which smelled of cigarette smoke and drinks from the amount of times he’s spilled them while wearing this very jacket). Harry straightened up and glanced towards his husband, the smile that he had once worn now slipping off of his face.

“Love, where are you going?”

_Oh no,_ Louis mentally groaned, _Now he’s going to give me “the talk”. Why now of all times?_ He spun back around on his heel, eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the younger lad. "Out." Was all he responded through gritted teeth, annoyance finally starting to rot down to his core. He felt bitterness suddenly towards his husband. Harry was twenty-eight, and yet still so lovely and young looking, just as he did the day that they two had laid eyes on each other. His emerald eyes still shone like gems just as the morning light touched them, his cheeks no longer were chubby with baby fat that stuck with him, but even so his lanky figure was thin still and his muscles strong. On the other hand, Louis had gotten a bit of a belly and he wasn't nearly as muscular. He hadn't the time for working out.  It seemed that, in that moment, Harry got frustrated too. 

"Out where? Dammit, Louis!" He finally broke, shaking his head. "You do this to me every night, every night, Louis! Why can't we be a family again? We have a child and yet you chose to just...go out with someone else? I can always smell someone new on you, or smoke-when did you even start smoking? Why can't you just be mine again, only mine? I don't understand!"

"You're so selfish!" Louis roared, his eyes blazing with anger, as he pointed an accusing finger towards Harry. "You're just jealous that I know how to have fun and you don't. You're just jealous that I-"

"Jealous? That's just a third grade excuse, I'm not jealous of my alcoholic husband! I pity him." Harry spat out to him, taking a brave step forward to stare directly into his husbands eyes. No longer was there the fondness that used to be there when they first had gotten together. No longer where they kissing each other at every giving moment and whispering sweet nothings into one another ears. When was the last time that they had even lasted hugged? Or kissed each other on the cheek, or even just shook each other hands? Given the other a high five? It had been so long, so very long, and Louis just didn't seem to care. He just seemed to want to please himself-he was selfish. That's all he was. He was selfish! 

No one understood Harry as the night did. For a time, he thought that he had the night, and Louis, and then Rosalie as well. Not it seemed that only the night understood him. Rosalie sometimes questioned his liking for the night. Always asked what was so special about it. He would always respond with things like, "the night is lonely and needs a friend too," or even, "it's special because your father and I met during the night. I cherish it for all it's beauty." But most of all he told her that yes, she would understand soon. She would understand once she was older. Too bad that she would never get the chance. Harry and Louis continued to yell at each other, their voices raising until Rosalie had awoke and stood in the hallway, quivering with fear and holding onto her favorite stuffed animal, a bunny that was tattered and ripped but she loved anyone. Her name was Carrots. Rosalie and Carrots were insuperable. 

"Yeah that's right!" Louis suddenly spat, throwing the keys directly into Harry's face. "Just run like the coward you are. Just leave, Harry, if you hate me so much!" The thirty year old was hoping that Harry would stay. That he would stubbornly shake his head in refusal and fold his arm over his chest the way he used to do when they fight. But their relationship had been strained like a single thread. Finally, that thread had broken, snapped in half, and a silly little thread like that wasn't worth the time to be fixed, apparently, because in the next moment Harry was nodding. 

"Fine." He snatched up the keys. "C'mon, Rosalie." He held out his hand for the little girl, who instantly ran up to him with fearful eyes, twirling some of her strawberry blonde hair around one of her tiny pale fingers, her lips pursed and emerald green eyes wide in horror. "We're going to Grandma's, how does that sound? You wanna go to Grandma's? I'll even get you some McDonald's." The little four year old girl cheered, forgetting (or seeming to) forget what she had just witnessed as Harry put on her little jacket over her pajama's, and then her own. He put on her sneakers, and then held her tightly in his arms as he walked out. 

It was only a few hours later that Louis received the news. 

Sometimes, the night was better than the day. Even though it may seem dark and dreary in comparison to the day's light and cheeriness, the day could actually turn its back on you and become cold. The sun's light could be even more distant than the stars as it pulled its blazing hands away, making no attempt to save anyone but itself. The day didn't sugar coat things, it didn't keep your secrets. Truth was, the sun wasn't even a ray of hope or the light that guiding you to the end of the tunnel-that was the light that you carried around yourself. Your own form of the sun, or the stars, or the moon-whatever source of light that you preferred. You couldn't wake for happiness or the sun to come, you had to be happy. That was something that Harry had always told Louis. "Be joyful on purpose," was Harry's favorite catchphrase. He would say that nearly every morning and every night whenever he could get someone to listen to his words. 

Louis would always remember those words, especially when he brought some Night Gladiolus, which just happened to be Harry's favorite flower since they only bloomed at night, to the stones in the ground with the names "Harry and Rosalie Styles-Loved ones and friends. **_Be joyful on_ _purpose._** "  


End file.
